


Ever On and On

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Physical Disability, Post-Canon Fix-It, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11252973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: "After all that hard work you did to tell us goodbye," Gladio said. "Welcome back, Your Majesty."





	Ever On and On

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this prompt: http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3451.html?thread=2984315#cmt2984315 and another link to the inspiring art: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2697475
> 
> The title is from Lord of the Rings, because one epic roadtrip deserves another:  
>  _The Road goes ever on and on_  
>  Out from the door where it began....

Noctis woke, the cramping of his neck having crossed from stiffness to actual pain. He shifted, raising his head carefully and opening his eyes. He'd been, well, _dead_ , or so he thought. He'd followed Ardyn into the beyond and seen himself burn into nothingness as well. After that, he'd been someplace shining and soft, sylleblossoms blooming to the horizon – hearing his father's proud voice, hugging Luna the way he had as a child, _kissing_ her the way he never had, searching for his friends...

It had felt real; he'd been glad to be in an afterlife like that, full of warmth and love. Now he was cold, seated high on the throne as the wind blew through the ruined walls of the great hall, and he hurt. He should get up, he thought. He had to. If he was alive, he was still king, with responsibilities. He... didn't have the strength to even brace his hands, much less push to his feet. He'd just wait here a little longer, he decided.

He was roused from his doze by barking, and called out to Umbra before he recalled that Luna was dead and there would be no more messages. Umbra raced up the stairs and put his front paws on his leg. When Noctis ran his hand down Umbra's side, the shock of living heat on his skin woke him completely, and he felt his stiff face smile. Umbra took that as invitation to try and lick his face clean of stubble.

_But if Umbra was here, then who was still barking?_

Umbra huffed in his face as soon as the thought formed, and then the clatter of boots on stone tiles could be heard. Desperate hope struck Noctis so hard he had trouble catching his breath, and he stared at the doorway. He wanted to run; all he could do was wait.

And then there they were, Gladio and Prompto and Ignis, following a glowing white dog who left a trail of sparkling dust behind her – Pryna, who was dead, but then again, wasn't Noctis supposed to be as well? So who knew.

Prompto had his arm around Ignis' waist, less as an attempt to guide him than an extension of his exuberance as he stared up at Noctis and spoke to Ignis. Gladio jogged after Pryna, following her to the head of the stairs, and then Noctis was caught up in a tidal wave of a hug.

"After all that hard work you did to tell us goodbye," Gladio said, voice thick with emotion. "Welcome back, Your Majesty."

"Hey," Prompto shouted, his voice echoing and Ignis reflexively jabbing him with an elbow. "Look outside." He gestured towards the gaping hole where the eastern wall had been.

Noctis turned, so his back was mostly against Gladio, and Umbra settled proprietorially on his feet, curling up with Pryna. Moments later, they were joined by Prompto, narrating each gleam of light painting the sky, and Ignis, as the dawn broke for the first time in ten years.

"Wait for it," Gladio breathed quietly, his voice going no further than Noctis' ear.

"If that isn't a sight for sore eyes," Ignis said, and Prompto groaned.

"We've tried every healer, but there's no cure yet for his terrible sense of humor," Gladio went on, trying to sound world-weary, even though he was grinning wide.

Noctis didn't care; he reached out and grabbed Ignis' hand. "I could stand for more light and laughter."

The look Ignis gave him was a little too sharp and knowing. Whatever. One bad pun deserved another.

Despite all their sacrifices, Noctis was glad to be here.

*

With the daemons gone, people started moving back into the city. The seat of government for all nations, the elected Council that had protected the people through the darkness, was still in Lestallum; Ignis was up to his ears in transitional plans and reconstruction, and very apologetic about not being able to return to Insomnia just yet. Noctis told him he was too good an adviser to not be advising anyone, and it wasn't like he'd expected to be made king of the world. Who would want something like that? All he wanted was to make Insomnia alive again – scarred and battered, like all of them, but _home_.

Gladio had organized teams of hunters during the past ten years to keep the railroads running, and now he and Iris spent weeks at a time traveling into the far reaches of Niflheim. They collected documentation on technology for Noctis and the Council, who had the duty and responsibility to sort the Empire's good ideas from the totally fucked up. Everything there was mostly dead, according to Gladio; he didn't elaborate on what that meant. Noctis wasn't sure he wanted to know. Talcott was fixing up the Amicitia house for when Gladio swung by town, and when things settled down he planned on moving in for good, just to liven the place up again.

Prompto stuck around Insomnia, which didn't surprise Noctis. Several days after Noctis failed to die he finally had time to see a healer, called in from the Hammerhead outpost, who told him bluntly that burning away that much life-force was bound to have a lasting effect. She wasn't surprised that he didn't have the strength left to walk across the room on a good day. Prompto had dug up a fairly crappy wheelchair from the infirmary, and he'd been tinkering with it since – he was pretty handy after ten years of working with and for Cindy. When Noctis settled into rooms in the Citadel (not his father's – too many memories, too many stairs), Prompto dumped his stuff in the suite across the hall, and never hinted that he wanted to move out or move on.

"There," Prompto said now, brushing his hands together briskly as he grinned up from the floor, where he'd been giving the royal wheelchair its monthly inspection. He'd downsized scavenged Niflheim tech to make a self-driving mechanism – not quite as fast as Noctis' last set of wheels, Prompto admitted, but still pretty cool. "Admit it, I'm a useful person to have around."

Noctis knew him well enough to hear the need in his voice; nearly a question. "You always have been."

None of his friends had found love while he was gone; he'd asked, obliquely and then outright, over the past year of dawns and peace, and never got a straight answer. He suspected they hadn't wanted to, which was understandable: marriage and birth rates during the dark years had been as low as people's hopes for the future. Staying single was maybe fine for Gladio, who had family and adopted family, and for Ignis, who was trying to steer the world back to prosperity while preserving its history at the same time. But of all of them, he most wanted to see Prompto find someone and be _normal_.

Which Prompto would never do. He was keenly aware of his birth, and ten years of hunting monsters and daemons hadn't done much to convince him that killing wasn't his intended and ingrained purpose.

Noctis liked to think that they were two of a kind: the only survivor from Niflheim's daemon army and the last of the Lucian line. He found that thought comforting.

But he doubted Prompto would, so he said instead, "Let's take her out for a spin." That always made _him_ feel better.

Prompto lit up. "Try not to fall asleep at the wheel this time," he warned, bouncing effortlessly to his feet. He dangled a small black box between two fingers. "I have the remote if you do, though. Fair warning, if I have to use it, I'm taking a commemorative picture and telling Gladio."

"When's he getting in?" Noctis grabbed the bar on the wall, braced his other hand on the desk, and pushed himself up. From there, two steps, and success, he made it to the wheelchair before his knees decided they wouldn't hold. Prompto stepped back, trying to act like he hadn't planned on grabbing for Noctis if he fell – which never worked, anyway. They'd both end up on the floor, and be showing off bruises for days.

"Noonish, he said. And he's bringing all the camping stuff. You sure you're up for the excitement?"

Settled, Noctis finger-combed his hair down and tugged his jacket straight. "I don't know, three days of fishing might be too much for this old man."

"Three days of _eating_ ," Prompto said, with a gleam in his eyes. Noctis aimed the chair at the doors and took off – and yeah, the wheels weren't pulling left any more, good. "Sunbathing. Adding to my portfolio. Fireworks over the lake. Sticking flowers in your hair when you conk out. It's gonna be awesome."

Noctis nodded at the Crownsguard on duty as they headed for the elevators, and Prompto gave her a quick rundown of where they were going, just like a responsible adult. Or a bodyguard. Whichever.

They rode down to the ground floor, where the service entrance, tucked under the formal staircase, had been cleaned up and repurposed for the king's use. Noctis still found it hard to look at the stairs; in his head, they were symbolic of so much emotion and pain. He preferred the ordinary ways of getting around, these days.

Post-war Insomnia was what Prompto called _laid back_. Not that the people didn't work hard – they did – but there was a strong sense of community and cooperation. Noctis was now king of a city where public plazas and empty lots had been turned into allotments overflowing with vegetables, where electricity was still rationed but the streets at night were full of music and dancing anyway, where a growing network of streetcars had reached the wall and now branched to settlements outside. He confessed to Ignis once that he felt he did more, as king, by going around and saying hi to his citizens as they shopped than by sitting in on government meetings (where he mostly decreed _the king agrees with the will of his people_ ).

He'd thought Ignis would be angry, but instead he'd polished his glasses thoughtfully out of old habit, and then said in quiet, measured words that, well, wasn't that what they'd fought the war _for_? The citizenry were more than capable of arranging schools and taxes and public works themselves; the king was merely the symbol of the sacrifice that had saved the world so that their lives could go on. (A moment later, Ignis had flushed and apologized for saying _merely_ , insistent that he'd meant no insult; Noctis had smirked and said he was glad to know, after all these years, how Ignis really felt.)

Noctis was content to think of himself as a laid-back kind of king, one his people were used to seeing on the street. He and Prompto headed down the west boulevard to where the new indoor market was under construction, weaving through the tents and stalls of the current shopping district. People nodded and waved; two little girls challenged him to a race to the end of the block, and a young mother asked him to bless her baby, which of course started crying as soon as he touched its forehead.

"You're great with kids, so how come babies hate you?" Prompto asked as they made their apologetic escape. "You're whiny, they're whiny, they spit out vegetables, you – "

Noctis smacked him on the leg.

"Your Majesty," Prompto cried, wide-eyed with fake pain as he danced out of reach. "How could you?"

"Probably a vitamin deficiency," Noctis said cheerfully. "Let's go see how the waterworks are coming along."

"You're just interested in the catch of the day," Prompto accused, but he had his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his uniform pants and looked happy. Noctis would ask him to take pictures once they got to the river. The city was paying a team of Altissian engineers to modernize their use of water resources, for transportation and energy production, mostly. There was a short loop of raised canal that had recently opened, and it was strangely pleasing to see gondolas drifting through the ruins. "Hey, did you hear that old man Calendae's opening the university again? You should see the list of teachers he's got lined up – I mean, really, they're a good mix. A lot of practical and industrial subjects, plus interpretive dancers and an expert on Oracles and get this, they might build a zoo."

"Outside the wall," Noctis said, firmly.

Prompto nodded. "Yeah, definitely, there's not much room for the poor animals to run around in here, out there they'd be happier. I'll pass that on. Advice from His Majesty."

Noctis hadn't been thinking of the _animals'_ well-being, but he didn't point that out.

When they got to the river, Prompto took the wheel while Noctis talked to people and made lists of things – how much progress had been made, what they needed, what they really wanted to do (mostly involving phrases like _aspirational waterfalls_ , which he wrote down verbatim and understood not at all). After an hour or so, he made his excuses about needing to get back to the Citadel and let Prompto wheel him away.

He didn't mean to fall asleep, but he did. One moment he was being teased by Prompto about how much better he was at hiding his boredom these days; the next he was being shaken awake by a gentle hand on his shoulder, his temple pressed up against the headrest, which he hadn't even registered being snapped into place.

"Noct, man, sorry, you gotta see this," Prompto said. He left his hand where it was, like a comforting anchor, while he waved the other wildly. Noctis blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "Look who the cat dragged in!"

"Delightful to see you, Prompto, as always."

And now Noctis was _really_ awake – that voice had always worked better than his alarm clock. "Ignis." How long had it been? Too long – months and months. "You came."

"I kidnapped him," Gladio said, stepping into view from behind Ignis. He looked smug, massive arms crossed. "He's been working himself to the bone. Slept the whole drive up here."

"Self defense against your music," Ignis muttered, looking embarrassed. "How have you been, Your Majesty?"

Prompto made an impatient noise. "More hugging, less pleasantries."

"Fewer," Ignis corrected absently, but he let Prompto tug him over and practically shove him into Noctis' arms.

"I missed you," Noctis said, arms around Ignis' back. He held him for a long moment – they were all old people now and prone to these kinds of emotional displays – and then patted his back twice and let go. "You're too thin." He felt he could get away with saying that, as someone whose muscle mass was melting away despite all the stretching and exercises he had to do each day. "Maybe we need to kidnap you more often."

Ignis straightened and took a careful step backwards. "Make an offer more attractive than fishing and I'll come on my own. You finally got rid of the beard."

Noctis huffed, one hand drifting to his chin before he noticed Gladio smirking at him. "Prompto, too. We got itchy." Which was one way to describe how he'd felt when his own reflection looked far too much like his father. At least clean-faced he didn't startle every time he passed a mirror.

Plus, Prompto's chin-patch had been seriously sad.

Ignis nodded unsympathetically. "I never could picture you with a beard. Or – to be quite honest – with gray hair."

"Half of yours is gray, Iggy," Gladio called, breaking into a grin when Ignis scowled. "Hate to break it to you."

"It is _not_ ," Ignis said.

"No one cares," Gladio went on. "Not when your tailor puts you in trousers like that."

"Here," Noctis said, reaching out to catch Ignis' wrist. He wasn't sure if the flush staining Ignis' cheeks was actual anger or embarrassment, but he'd rather not start out with either. Ignis let him place his hand on the hand grip. "Give me a push back to the Citadel so I can grab my stuff."

"Still blind," Ignis reminded him, but his hands settled into place with practiced familiarity. "And I thought you were motorized these days."

"Too lazy," Noctis said airily. "And no one's going to let you push me down any stairs."

"Well," Gladio said. "We would if it was funny."

"Or if you deserved it," Prompto added, trying (and failing) to sound threatening. "You can follow my voice, I'm going to be right in front." He had his camera in hand, and Noctis thought it was more likely he'd fall over something while walking backwards trying to get everyone in the frame.

"A little to the left," Noctis directed as they started out down the road. "Some days I seriously consider becoming a despot. Then I could throw _certain annoying people_ into the beast pit."

Gladio raised both eyebrows, a silent challenge. "Good luck throwing me anywhere." He reached over and nudged Prompto's arm. "Speaking of beasts, there's a chocobo place just up the road from the campsite. I heard they just had a hatching and are up to their ears in chicks."

Prompto made an unholy gleeful noise, and Noctis was close enough to hear Ignis quickly repress a snort of laughter.

"So, what's the plan?" Noctis asked, even though what he didn't know he could extrapolate from experience. But he found it comforting to hear Prompto and Gladio argue over who was the better driver, and a bit terrifying to hear Ignis' dark satisfaction at having finally found a source for coffee ( _No way_ , Gladio snapped at him. _I remember you in withdrawal. I'm not going through that again._ ). Gladio wanted to know if Noctis was going swimming, and... Well. He wasn't sure he wouldn't sink like a stone. Ignis told Prompto to add water wings to the shopping list, and even though Noctis grumbled (he had to protest, for form's sake) it felt good to be laughed at. Familiar. Like he was with family.

They rounded the corner and crossed the boulevard diagonally. Prompto tried to helpfully guide Ignis around the cracks and holes, and Ignis wondered out loud – and pointedly – just what the king was so busy with that he couldn't even have the main road fixed.

"Yeah, potholes are a big priority for me," Noctis said, rolling his eyes. "They keep me up at night."

"A pair of adamantoise mating outside your window couldn't keep you from your beauty sleep," Gladio said. "But the place actually looks pretty good, Iggy. Still a wreck, but a clean wreck with murals on the walls and cabbages growing all over the place."

"A clean wreck," Noctis echoed. "I'll put that on some billboards. _Insomnia, highly wrecked._ Maybe we'll get tourists." Noctis pointed as Gladio's mud-encrusted truck came into view, pulled up on the pavement in front of the Citadel. "Looks like you're trying to import half the dirt from here to Hammerhead into my nice, clean city."

"I _knew_ you were lying about washing it," Ignis said.

Gladio shrugged, unrepentant. "Figured it would rain."

"Hey, look," Prompto called. "The puppies are here." He took off running for the stairs; Umbra and Pryna greeted him with equal enthusiasm.

"And he's down," Gladio reported for Ignis' benefit. "Being licked to death now. Nice kid, terrible way to go, et cetera."

"So you're still in correspondence with Lady Lunafreya," Ignis said. "I hope she's well."

"Kinda hard to explain. Hold up, there's a curb there, go right." Noctis sighed. Ignis would understand if he could see, but of course that wasn't an option. "Okay, there's a board here, I'll steer, you push?"

"It had better be a board with suitable dignity," Ignis muttered, not even sounding winded as they got the chair up over the curb. "Considering it's for royalty."

"Royally bored royalty?" Noctis asked, trying to preempt the incipient pun. "Hey, Prompto, any news?"

"Here." Prompto pulled the notebook out of Pryna's harness and held it out.

"Parking stop," Noctis said. When Ignis obliged, he grabbed the notebook and locked his brakes. "Here, Ignis, have a look. This is probably historically relevant, or something." Ignis let Noctis place the notebook in his hands, very tentatively tracing the flowers, cards, and pictures pressed inside. "It's all held together by magic – nothing's fallen out yet, and there's always room for more. These are the most recent pages. Can you feel that?"

On the left side was a photo Prompto had taken of the four of them and a sunrise; that was the first message Noctis had sent back with Pryna, hoping for closure, because he hadn't understood then that not even death stood in the way of his and Luna's friendship.

Luna's reply sprawled over two pages, a tangle of magic that danced in colors across the paper. Noctis was sure some of it was supposed to be words, but it was like trying to hear the sun or taste a haunting melody. He suspected he wouldn't fully understand until they met again in the beyond, but for now he felt... comforted, to know she was still thinking of him. He thought there was love and forgiveness woven in the magic. Could just be wishful thinking, though.

"Huh." Ignis took the notebook, flipping forward and back through the pages and frowning. After a moment, he pulled his glasses off.

"You can see that?" Prompto asked, shooting to his feet so fast Umbra yipped, startled. "Iggy?"

"There's _something_ here," Ignis said, strained and abstracted, frowning. He closed his right eye and for a long, supremely eerie moment studied the pages with his empty eye socket.

Noctis said, "All I see is magic – beautiful, but not readable."

"No." Ignis' voice was sharp. He flipped back to a specific page and ran his palm down it. "You asked her about Prompto." There was a tinge of fragility to his conviction, as if he needed to be right.

"Yeah," Noctis admitted. He glanced at Prompto in apology. "When I stood against Ardyn, you four were with me and my father. I _felt_ you there, on the other side. But Prompto doesn't believe me that there's an afterlife for _someone like him_."

" _Noct,_ " Prompto said, scuffing his feet in mortification, his hand curling reflexively around the band on his wrist. "Lady Lunafreya doesn't want to hear my problems, buddy."

"I think she says _yes_." Ignis looked conflicted. "Though admittedly I can neither explain why nor how I know. It feels – " he slid his glasses on, as if shielding himself – "like the epiphany of creating a new recipe. The sudden certainty that something is true."

"Well, okay. You're good at that," Noctis pointed out. "Makes sense." As much as magic ever did.

Ignis ran his fingers over the pages one last time and then handed the notebook back. Noctis balanced it on his lap and patted his pockets down for his pen.

"I'll tell Luna you passed on her message. Anything else?"

"Let me take a picture." Prompto scooted behind Noctis and dug through the seatback bag for his tripod. "Do you think the stuff we send gets just as scrambled and weird over there?"

"It's the thought that counts," Gladio said, dismissing the metaphysical puzzle with a shrug. "Iggy, come here." When Ignis turned toward him, he directed him to kneel on Noctis' left before hunkering down into his own place on the right – which neatly solved the problem of Noctis being towered over by tall people. "You don't need to fuck with filters," he called to Prompto. "Just take the picture already so we can get on the road."

"I'm driving first," Prompto said. "Dibs." He made a few final adjustments and then hit the timer. He dashed over and slid into place behind Noctis; leaning over, he braced his hands on Ignis and Gladio's shoulders. "Say _catoblepas_."

"Like hell," Noctis snapped, just as the shutter started going off. Prompto burst out laughing, and Gladio tried to yank him over, and Ignis, through a forced smile for the camera, accused everyone of being twelve.

Half of the pictures were a complete wash (Noctis hadn't even noticed Prompto giving him finger-antlers), but the third miraculously had everyone smiling in a way that Gladio said wouldn't scare Luna too badly. Prompto printed it out, and Noctis stuck it in the notebook, above his brief scrawled message. He slid the notebook into Pryna's harness while Prompto distracted her with snuggles.

Gladio and Prompto loaded up their gear, everyone took a last-minute bathroom break, and then Prompto was behind the wheel, gloves and sunglasses on, Noctis and Ignis in the back seat and Gladio sitting shotgun and not liking it at all. Prompto swung the truck around to head west, only hitting one pothole (a small one, really, Ignis).

He honked the horn at Umbra and Pryna, napping on the stairs in a patch of late morning sun, and they raised their heads to watch the truck drive off.

"Think they'll be gone by the time we get back?" Prompto asked wistfully, watching in the rear-view mirror.

"Definitely," Gladio said. He probably meant it to take Prompto down a notch, but when Prompto's shoulders actually did droop he relented. "But they'll be back." He reached his hands up, pressing the roof with his palms so the metal creaked as he stretched. "Same as us. Maybe we had to go through hell to get back home the last time, but we did it. Have some faith."

"Dude," Prompto said, "I got nothing but faith. Faith and love. Also, natural rhythm and a pretty smile."

"So relax. Think about all the embarrassing stuff Noct's going to say once we get a good campfire going." Gladio reached for the radio, and a moment later they were listening to some guy singing about the lover he left in Ravatogh.

Before them, the wall rose until nothing could be seen but the gate.

"Good hunting," the gate guard told them, waving the truck through.

As Prompto accelerated, the world opened before them, and Noctis was struck by a wave of nostalgia. This was how his journey had started, the road and the wide blue sky, the open horizon and the best friends a man could ask for. He listened to Prompto and Gladio arguing about chocobos (visiting today or tomorrow, or why not all three days, Promoto wanted to know) and Ignis back-seat driving with surprising accuracy (though really, it was hard to go wrong with the classics, _hands on the wheel_ and _stay in your lane_ ). His eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling him under; the last things he heard were Prompto saying, "Aw man, get a picture, Gladio, he's conked out on Iggy's shoulder," the clicking of a shutter, and a low rumbling under his cheek as Ignis murmured, _Do please keep your eyes on the road_.


End file.
